Crimson Peak
by Carpathian Rose
Summary: He needed her to need him. He needed her to want him. Edith knew the consequences of giving in to Thomas Sharpe. But how could she deny him when his sin was her own?


Author's Note

Why is October 16th so far away? I've watched the trailers for Crimson Peak over and over...and I absolutely cannot wait for the movie to come out. It looks absolutely wonderful and horridly delicious. I have been fantasizing about what's going to happen and how. And I must write out a scene of my own...I hope you enjoy.

Thomas Sharpe was still as charmingly seductive as when he'd first drawn her into his darkness. Something about him had drawn her in and the moment she'd said yes, she couldn't get away. Away from what? His kisses, the sly touches that barely touched her skin? The way he held her in his arms, the way he moved over her body, holding her down in his passionate embrace...

She'd been an easy recipient for the dead. Whether they'd been warning her away from the darkness of Crimson Peak that had trapped them forever, or luring her in, she still didn't know. But Edith knew...blood.

Thomas was stained with it deep down. His sister could never wash it away, not even from herself had she wanted to.

Edith wrapped her arms around her body against the chill that remained in Crimson Peak. Warm, strong arms moved over hers from behind until they were circling her front and wrapping around her from behind. Thomas' familiar cologne filled her nostrils and she closed her eyes, sinking back against into his closing embrace.

"Will you be mine?" He whispered against her neck, his head dipping down. His lips played over her pulse which beat unsteadily before his tongue flicked out.

He'd asked her those words before. She'd been his many times before. Many, many times...

But the words were different this time. They meant something different. Something darker, something set in stone and blood. Something...she didn't know what it was. It sent a chill down her spine.

"Will you?" Thomas murmured again. He lifted one arm and his hand slid up. He cupped her neck, her jugular pressing against his palm. He used his thumb, tilting her head back so he had better access.

She could hear the whispers again, the sheer screams off in the distance before they died down before rising up again. So far off...but echoing.

" _Has their been horrible deaths in this house?"_

" _This house has seen many souls come and go."_

Souls that were trapped, echoing their deaths repeatedly, wanting freedom but wanting to steal others into their own demise. Like hers. But Thomas wanted her for his own.

"Be mine." Thomas murmured against the smooth skin of her neck, as if he knew her thoughts were straying. One hand lowered while the other rose and then they were even with each other. He cupped her breasts, squeezing the succulent flesh until her nipples were pressing against the thin bodice. She could feel him behind her. He was hard and pressing up against her ass.

God, yes, she wanted to be his. Over and over. She couldn't think when he touched her. She couldn't act on her own when he kissed her. He knew that and he'd used it against her from the beginning. It was how he'd won her over. Even now, when she knew the dark secrets he harbored, the sin that stained Crimson Peak like a dark shadow.

Being his would be the end of her. She would be no more. She'd be lost in his world of darkness, sin and death...

He needed her to say the words and he knew it. She knew it. She'd be free of his sister, but she'd be lost in him just like the other souls here...

She gasped as he turned them around so that they were facing the vanity against the wall. He pressed her against it and she braced her hands against the surface to steady herself, shaking the crystal perfumes gracing the surface. She lifted her head and could see them in the mirror.

Staring at her flushed expression, Edith could feel a hot rush of desire pooling between her thighs. He stood behind her, pale in the dim lighting. His eyes were a burning blue, burning pools of lust. She could see the dark secrets in his eyes, the alluring danger that had pulled her in from the beginning.

His eyes met hers in the mirror as his hand dipped down her thigh from the side and tugged up the thin skirt. His hand moved swiftly to the side and down, between her thighs. The skirt fell over his hand but she didn't need to see his hand to know what he was doing. She could _feel_ him.

Thomas cupped her between the thighs, his fingers sliding over bare skin before he was thrusting a finger into her wet body. He used that hand to jerk her hips backwards so that he could grind his cock against her. Leverage. Sweet, merciless grinding leverage friction.

He thrust another finger in, followed by another until three fingers were stretching her. He wasn't just teasing her, he was forcing elicit responses from her, making her lose her mind and what little control she had. Making her want to say the words that would keep her in his world forever.

She wanted to. God knew she wanted to. She'd never have to lose him again...but she would lose herself...

"Will you be mine, Edith?" Thomas whispered the words again, the lust clear in his slight accent. He hooked his fingers in her deep, rubbing his palm back and forth over her. She moaned, squeezing her thighs around his probing hand.

She hadn't even realized her eyes had fallen closed until she was opening them. Her gasp echoed in the room and she would have lurched back when she saw their reflection in the mirror, but his hips and hand between her thighs kept her pinned between him and the vanity.

Her breath froze when the black veiled form thrust halfway through the mirror, it's dark and sunken eyes piercing her to the soul. She'd seen it before and the terror was the same. Ice cold fear. But the harsh reality of lust overruled it, mixing until she couldn't tell either apart. The figure opened its mouth, as if it was trying to claw its way further through the mirror but it couldn't. It screeched and she could hear the shrill sound...but the sound was empty, no piercing blindness moving over her ears.

Thomas held her from behind, forcing her to remain against the vanity and the terrifying vision, her body struggling to realize the fear for what it was, while being overruled by lust and desire. Cold breath poured over her cheek. He thrust against her from behind and Edith shuddered. He reached out and pressed a hand against the corner of the oval mirror and his eyes met hers through the see through black veil, as if he didn't see the apparition.

The back folds of the dress moved upward and she felt the hot, heavy length of his cock pressing against one ass cheek.

Her throat worked as she swallowed; when had he taken the time to open his trousers?

The screams came again, begging, disgust, eager, horror, wanting, denying, needing...

Screams that were nearly non-existent, fading in and out of existence. Sometimes she wondered if she imagined them. "Thomas." Edith moaned out, her nails scraping the surface of the vanity. Her eyes met his in the mirror again.

"I love you more than I have any other, Edith. Be mine." He repeated, his voice coaxing an answer.

The black veiled figure rushed through the mirror again, nearly pressing it's cheek against hers. Edith reared backward but Thomas freed one hand and twisted his fingers in the back of her hair. He jerked her head back with just enough force not to sting, forcing her to watch their reflection.

Didn't he see what she saw?

She could see their reflection, but she could see hers just through the heavy veil as the figure open its mouth for another silent scream.

How could she still want more? How could her body still feel so much heat in the face of Crimson Peak?

She needed Thomas. She needed him now. "Yes." Edith finally sobbed out. "Yes." She whispered again, knowing what that word meant. It gave death a whole new meaning, something more, something...alive. Something for Thomas.

Something for her.

Edith screamed when Thomas thrust and his body filled hers. The whispers came again, heinous and joyous at the same time. Thomas didn't stop. He didn't give her time to adjust to him. One hand settled over her hip while the other gripped the mirror and he started thrusting.

The sound of their flesh slapping together echoed in the large bedroom and the crystal bottles around her hands fell to the floor, shattering on impact. Neither noticed nor cared. The black veiled figure lurched back into the mirror, as if sucked back into it's depths until there was nothing but the harsh planes of Thomas' face staring into her own as he took her.

And he wouldn't let her look away. He forced her to watch in the mirror, her body moving back and forth with every thrust, rattling the small vanity as he held on.

She could see the room behind him in the mirror and she swore she saw blood leaking over the grooves in the walls, swore she saw blood leaking over the edges of the mirror. She fell forward under his heavy thrusts and when she lifted her head again, she gasped at the image in the mirror again.

He took her from behind, the lines set in his face as he struggled to reach his own release, while pushing her to her own. The image flashed, as if moving out of focus and she saw the black veil again, but this time, it was her image staring at her through the veil...

"Never leave me." Thomas bit out through his next thrust, slamming into her. He sounded almost desperate. He loved her, even in his own twisted way. There was a reason why she could communicate with the dead. She belonged in Crimson Peak—with him.

Edith shook her head. She didn't know what she was seeing, or had seen. "I love you." She panted out, squeezing her eyes shut. Her body tightened around his and she reached up, grabbing a hold of his wrist as he thrust into her. He continued to thrust and she could feel him growing harder and she couldn't stop it—her body tightened around his again and on the next thrust, she was coming.

She cried out, her body convulsing around his. She heard him give a rough curse behind her before he started slamming into her and then he gave one more thrust before his body was pulsing in hers and she could feel the hot, heated release of his seed.

Through blurred eyes she could see him in the mirror, panting, but she could also see Crimson Peak. The walls, stained with blood and the various souls. She could _see_ them.

"You're mine." Thomas whispered again, his eyes meeting hers in the mirror again. It was a statement of ownership and possession. Body and _soul._ His and Crimson Peak.

She could feel the weakness in her body and she slumped forward. He withdrew and she could feel the heavy drag of his shaft and then the wet gush of his seed. He pressed a soft kiss against the back of her exposed neck.

She was _his..._ she would never leave.


End file.
